He finished his drink. 'I don__ like mornings either,' he said. __hat__ why I__ a writer.

I don__ know any writers who don__ drink.

Love me like Saturday night, like three glasses of champagne, like the room is spinning, like you're drunk on my love.

Champagne arrived in flûtes on trays, and we emptied them with gladness in our hearts... for when feasts are laid and classical music is played, where champagne is drunk once the sun has sunk and the season of summer is alive in spicy bloom, and beautiful women fill the room, and are generous with laughter and smiles... these things fill men's hearts with joy and remind one that life__ bounty is not always fleeting but can be captured, and enjoyed. It is in writing about this scene that I relive this night in my soul.

The food we were given was no more than eatable, but the patron was not mean about drink; he allowed us two litres of wine a day each, knowing that if a plongeur is not given two litres he will steal three.

When you paint late at night, drinking beer or wine or both, you gotta be very careful to watch what you are doing...